Chapter 41 : Chapter 41
Chapter 41: The Shadow of the Viscount
“My lord!”
Barrett's rough voice shattered the silence.
He strode over from Cole's headless corpse, his single eye gleaming with excitement, clutching a roll of parchment half-soaked in blood.
“Take a look at what I dug out from the lining of this bastard's breastplate.”
He presented the parchment.
Caesar took it and unrolled it.
It wasn't an official order, but a hastily scrawled letter.
The handwriting was crooked and filled with the vulgar vocabulary of lowborn mercenaries, but the information it revealed made Caesar's eyes flash with icy mockery.
The letter's content was simple—someone called “the Boss” was urging Cole to intensify the “cleansing” of refugees in this region.
The letter mentioned that as long as they could continue causing trouble for that new city, preventing it from peacefully surviving the winter, when spring came, that “generous Viscount” would personally step forward to “mediate.”
At that time, the Viscount would “compensate” Caesar, this “wronged” pioneer, with a sum of money in exchange for the already-developed city.
And Cole and his “Bloody Hand” would receive double the bounty from the Baron.
At the letter's end, a crude emblem was drawn in rough strokes—a lion holding up a shield.
Lionheart City. Viscount Simon.
The one Baron Ralph served.
“Heh.”
Caesar let out a cold laugh full of contempt.
He handed the letter to Roland beside him.
The old Knight took it and skimmed through it. The muscles on his scarred face twitched imperceptibly.
“The Viscount…”
Roland's voice was low as iron.
“They want to pluck the fruit we've watered with blood and sweat at the lowest possible cost.”
“More than just low cost.”
Caesar's tone was full of sardonic amusement.
“Stupidly perfect, in fact.”
“A city that hasn't even survived its first winter, and they're already this eager to make their move? How confident are they that I won't make it through?”
He could already imagine the scene.
After enduring a winter of beast tides and bandit harassment, his city would be left in ruins, its population decimated.
Then, that benevolent Viscount Simon would descend like a god from heaven, wearing an expression of compassion, wanting to exchange a small bag of gold coins for his City of Miracles with unlimited potential.
What a perfect script.
Too bad they chose the wrong actor.
“My lord, what do we do now?”
Roland asked.
“If we directly strike down Grayrock Town and kill that fool Ralph, we'll only give Viscount Simon an excuse to openly march against us in the name of defending noble honor.”
“Exactly.”
Caesar nodded, his deep purple eyes glittering with calculation.
“The Empire's Pioneering Charter is our strongest shield.”
“It protects us from 'unprovoked' attacks, but it also restricts us from declaring war on hereditary nobles first.”
“Viscount Simon doesn't dare attack directly because he fears this.”
“He's using Ralph, this mad dog, to bite me, hoping to force me to lose my reason first and flip the table.”
He paused, his lips curling into a cruel smile.
“Too bad for them.”
“The Empire has another unwritten rule—conflicts between nobles of the same rank or between ranks, unless it's a matter of life and death, higher-ranking nobles have no rightful authority to interfere without just cause.”
“If the Viscount's dog bites me and I break its legs, that's between us.”
“As long as I don't directly storm into the Viscount's manor, he can only watch helplessly.”
The way to play this game was never to flip the table.
But to work within the rules and destroy your opponent.
……
Night completely shrouded the wasteland.
City of Miracles, the Lord's Council Hall.
Flames roared in the fireplace, casting the giant lizard skull hanging on the wall in menacing shadows.
Around the long wooden table, the atmosphere was heavy as lead.
Caesar sat at the head. Roland and Barrett sat on either side.
Thomas, Peter, Sam, Matthew, and Colin—the five newly promoted squad leaders—stood straight behind them, their faces still carrying traces of killing intent and the smell of blood.
Anneliya sat in the corner, parchment and ink spread before her, ready to record this meeting that would decide the city's fate.
Her palms were slick with nervous sweat.
“Baron Ralph must die!”
Barrett slammed his palm on the table, rattling cups and plates, his single eye filled with savage ferocity.
“My lord! Give the order! We now have eight hundred Black Dragon Guards, every one armored and well-fed!”
“And we have you and Sir Roland, two Grand Knights!”
“That pathetic wall of Grayrock Town couldn't withstand even one of our charges!”
“Let me lead Dragon's Fang as the vanguard—before dawn breaks, I guarantee I'll bring you that bastard Ralph's head!”
“That's right, my lord!”
Thomas also stepped forward, eyes red as he roared.
“Those bastards slaughtered our people! This blood debt must be repaid with their lives! We're not afraid to die!”
“Not afraid to die?”
Caesar finally spoke, his voice not loud, yet like a bucket of ice water instantly extinguishing the flames in their hearts.
He stood and walked to the massive sand table.
It was a terrain map of the area surrounding the City of Miracles that he had personally crafted based on God's Eye scans.
“Of course we can win.”
“Crushing Grayrock Town would be easy as pie for us.”
His finger lightly flicked the model representing Grayrock Town. The small castle built from wooden blocks toppled at the touch.
“And then?”
Caesar turned around, his cold gaze sweeping over Barrett and Thomas.
“Then how many men do we lose? One hundred? Two hundred?”
“Right before winter arrives, right on the eve of the beast tide.”
“We trade our soldiers' lives for the life of one greedy fool.”
“Is that a good deal?”
Barrett and Thomas opened their mouths but couldn't find words.
Caesar didn't give them time to think and continued.
“Even if we take Grayrock Town without losing a single man.”
“Then what? What will Viscount Simon do?”
“He'll immediately gather his private army in the name of protecting Imperial nobility and punishing lawless pioneers, possibly even uniting with other surrounding nobles, and march on our gates.”
“At that point, we won't be facing one Baron, but a Viscount, or even a noble alliance led by him!”
“We'll go from being 'victims' to being 'instigators.'”
“From having the moral high ground to losing it.”
“Our strongest talisman—the Imperial Pioneering Charter—will become waste paper!”
Every word from Caesar was like a heavy hammer, pounding hard on the hearts of these hot-blooded officers.
They had only seen hatred, while Caesar had already seen the web woven from conspiracy and law behind that hatred.
The Council Hall fell into deathly silence.
Roland looked at Caesar's back, admiration and approval flashing in his eyes.
This young lord possessed not just strength, but a calm mind completely inconsistent with his age.
“Then… my lord, are we just going to let this slide?”
Barrett asked unwillingly.
“Just watch as they slaughter our people?”
“Let it slide?”
Caesar turned around, his lips curling into a sinister arc.
“That phrase doesn't exist in the Valerius family dictionary.”
“Revenge is a dish that requires careful preparation. Killing him directly would be too merciful.”
His gaze slowly swept over everyone present, finally landing on the scribe who had been silent in the corner.
“I want him alive. I want him to watch his territory decay day by day, watch his subjects flee to my city batch by batch.”
“I want him to go from a lofty Baron to a lonely man guarding an empty city.”
“I want him to lie sleepless night after night in despair and fear.”
“I want him to pay a price more painful than death for his greed.”
These words sent a chill from the soles of everyone's feet straight to their skulls.
“But my lord… how do we do that?”
Thomas swallowed hard.
Caesar smiled.
“Do you all remember those 'guests' who visited late at night some time ago?”
Everyone froze.
Roland's pupils contracted sharply.
“My lord, you mean… the Church of White Bone?”
“Exactly.”
Caesar walked to the window, looking toward the closely guarded corner in the city's east, his tone becoming deep and dangerous.
“A mad dog—it's inconvenient for us to strike it personally.”
“But we can release another more hungry, more crazed wild dog to fight it for food.”
“Let two beasts tear at each other in the mud.”
“And we only need to stand on high ground and enjoy the show.”
“This…”
Barrett shot to his feet in shock.
“My lord! Those are heretics! Necromancers who defile corpses! Getting involved with them…”
“Who said we're getting involved with them?”
Caesar coldly cut him off.
“I, Caesar Valerius, lord of the City of Miracles, clearly and firmly reject and despise these heretics who desecrate life.”
“This point can be witnessed by every soldier in the city.”
“But if an anonymous 'well-meaning' merchant provides these cornered 'wandering clergy' with a business opportunity, informing them that on the barren land of Blackrock Town, many homeless 'souls' are buried, waiting for their deity's 'salvation'… what's wrong with that?”
The Council Hall fell pin-drop silent.
Everyone was stunned speechless by Caesar's bold—even insane—plan.
Drive the tiger to devour the wolf.
Kill with a borrowed blade.
Use the most forbidden power to strike at your enemy while remaining completely uninvolved, washing your hands clean.
“Roland.”
Caesar's voice pulled everyone's thoughts back to reality.
“Here.”
“You'll personally handle this matter.”
“Remember, leave no written evidence. Let no one know this has anything to do with us.”
Caesar's tone became unprecedentedly grave.
“This matter is a double-edged sword hanging over our heads.”
“Use it well, and it solves a big problem for us.”
“Use it poorly, and if word leaks out, we'll immediately become public enemies of the entire Empire.”
“Viscount Simon would laugh himself awake from his dreams.”
“Everyone involved in this matter, including all of you.”
Caesar's gaze swept over the five squad leaders present.
“Everything you've heard here today, you bury it in your guts.”
“If anyone dares leak half a word, I don't mind making you the Church of White Bone's first batch of 'local materials.'”
“Yes, my lord!”
The five men shuddered and answered in unison.
They finally understood what kind of lord they were following.
He could be a merciful protector, and he could also be… a king who deals with devils.
“Barrett.”
“Here!”
“From today on, Dragon's Fang's mission is to patrol along the border with Blackrock Town twenty-four hours without interruption.”
“I don't want you attacking first, but any Bloody Hand squad that dares cross the border, beat them to death!”
“I want Baron Ralph to think twice about whether he'll lose his head even when sending someone out to collect cow dung!”
“Yes, my lord!”
Barrett's single eye gleamed with bloodlust.
“As for you all.”
Caesar looked at Thomas and the others.
“Accelerate the training! Before winter arrives, I want every soldier under your command to become elite warriors capable of fighting three men!”
“Our enemies aren't just Ralph, but this damned wasteland itself!”
Orders were issued one after another, clear and cold.
An invisible noose aimed at Grayrock Town began slowly tightening under Caesar's personal arrangement.